


something to last for our time

by washingmachineheart



Category: BoBoiBoy (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Dinners, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Kissing, M/M, Other, Stargazing, domestic boifang is very crucial to my mental health, i have nothing witty to say here, if you know i will give u a cookie, the title is a rick astley lyric btw and it still cracks me up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/washingmachineheart/pseuds/washingmachineheart
Summary: Earth isn't Fang's home with a capital H - at least he thinks it isn't.
Relationships: BoBoiBoy/Fang, Boboiboy & Fang, BoiFang - Relationship, Fang/Boboiboy, Yayi, Ying/Yaya
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	something to last for our time

**Author's Note:**

> for context: bbb is retired, fang has gone up the ranks and has newly been appointed captain. yaya and ying aren’t on frontlines anymore but they help train new recruits & they get more leeway to visit earth. gopal also still works with tapops but does a lot of culinary side jobs because why tf not. also safe to assume everyone is in their early twenties here.

The house was just as he remembered it to be. 

Of course, it wasn’t to be as exact as he had experienced it as a young boy. The old cabinet that stored old china was gone. The house had been repainted and redecorated since Boboiboy bought back the property. The walls glistened with the newness of it all, despite retaining its original colours - hues of turquoise, light blue, and white splattered on the varying walls. The curtains that lead to the kitchen had been replaced with simple white cloth. Though the little vintage lamps that lit the dining room remained the same. 

Alright. Maybe it wasn’t exactly like he could remember it. But somehow it still felt that way. The deja vu that came with stepping into the house with his bare feet. The way he still wasn’t used to being around spaces that represented a home, somewhere you could come back to once the day was up and you needed a safe place to lay your head. 

Fang chuckled, just a little. He sat on the same chair, and the same side that he had awkwardly chosen all those years ago. The spread before him - a medium sized plate of fish curry, smaller plates dedicated to eggs and assorted vegetables, a large bowlful of white rice. The heat from being newly cooked wafted from each one, the scent overwhelming his nostrils. Also the same spread from those years. He smiled, allowing himself to believe Boboiboy had done this on purpose.  _ Didn’t realise today’s theme was time travel with a slapdash of nostalgia.  _

Yet… Who was buying him the extra time? He wondered. He’d heard slight clanging from the back of his head. The choppy sounds of a knife injuring a board, an occasional hum here and there. 

Fang placed a hand on his chin, proceeding to tap his own fingers against the marble. He was beginning to sweat a little, regretting the choice to come in a purple turtleneck. A quick glance into the mirror plastered on the wall showed a man with reddened cheeks due to the heat. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose for good measure. He’d bought a new pair of vintage frames to use while he was off duty, feeling peculiar without his visors. His hands felt empty without the gloves, the bare sight of it brand new as he ran his fingers through his own hair. 

He wondered if he was causing any trouble by being early. Boboiboy had definitely looked somewhat frazzled when he greeted him by the door, though in his usual fashion he denied any feelings of distress. 

Though he was certain he had heard ‘you’d better get it right this time’ under his breath as he stalked back into the kitchen. 

“Aaaaaand here comes the  pièce de résistance !” Boboiboy’s voice suddenly boomed, interrupting all the trains of thought Fang had been conducting in the minutes he’d been alone. A vibrant young man dressed in an orange polo shirt appeared from the kitchen, his hands covered in mittens and a steaming bowl. 

He set it down gently, a trickle of sweat rolling down his head. He promptly wiped it off as soon as it was off his hands, his arm swiping against his messy, almost fully brown hair. (The white streak still remained, a detail Fang assumed could have been gone after the while they hadn’t seen each other.)

_ No freakin way.  _

It was red carrot soup - garnished with various greens, bobbing with the chopped orange vegetable and smelling like absolute heaven. 

Fang didn’t know how long the sight and glorious smell had enamoured him, until a silver spoon interrupted the sea of orange. 

He looked up - with Boboiboy handing him the piece of cutlery, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Try it,” he whispered, not even bothering to hide how nervous the prospect of tasting made him feel. “I know I probably can’t make it the same way Tok Aba did, but please. Try it.” 

Fang blinked. Once, and twice, before tentatively taking the spoon from him. He dipped the spoon into the soup, allowing the liquid to collect onto it. Tentatively holding a hand below it as he brought it to his mouth, being ever so careful not to spill…. 

No. 

No absolute  **way.**

The soup almost danced on his taste buds, the heat of it melting on his tongue. He could identify the sweetness that came with the vegetable, yet there was also something a little spicy? Tangy? That went along with it so nicely. There were definitely added spices in Boboiboy’s rendition of the soup but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t a food critic, and the vocabulary wasn’t going to process easily when it tasted  _ this fucking good.  _

Dear lord. If this was the galaxy’s way of compensating him of all the years of trauma he would gladly accept it. 

“What do you think?” Boboiboy asked, still standing by him with his hands behind his back. He realised his shirt was slightly stained with splatters of soup, a sign he had abandoned the use of an apron. 

“This….” Fang immediately trailed off. His mouth wanted to jump into praise, but yet there were so many questions. How did he nail this? How did it taste so familiar to all those years ago yet so unique to the present? 

“This is amazing,” he managed, and he instinctively brought the spoon over the bowl again. 

Boboiboy suddenly heaved probably one of the biggest sighs of relief, his entire body deflating like a balloon. “Thank goodness.” 

“Why the hell were you so scared for?” Fang couldn’t help but laugh, both at how fantastic the soup was and Boboiboy’s worked up front. 

“Cooking is harder than it looks!” He cried, as he pushed back the seat next to his, the wooden components whining against the floor. “Tok Aba always made it seem so easy..” 

He continued laughing, small bursts that made his heart rate rise slightly.  _ God. _ There was really no one else who could still retain this amount of naivety, no matter how much time passed. 

“Besides,” Boboiboy suddenly muttered, breaking up the babbling that his cooking anxiety had brought forth. “I wanted to get this right. For you.” 

Fang calmed down, letting his voice cease into a silence. This time he realised Boboiboy was suddenly looking at the soup with a small, but obviously satisfied smirk. 

“I’m glad this never stopped being your favourite.” 

For some reason that was the one that did it. Not inviting him back to his childhood home, not the copious amount of effort of the spread he had made to welcome him. 

It was always the little things. The little things that he remembered, the little things that he did that made him feel so… 

_ So what?  _

Whatever it was, he found he definitely wanted to wipe the smirk right off his stupid face. And so he did, by doing what he did best before, and what he should have done more often back then. 

Invading his personal space and kissing him. 

Fang could only press his lips against his lightly, a tentative step forward. With Boboiboy there was a timidness that washed over him the moment he decided he would get what he wanted. Like he was holding himself back for good measure. The bravado of trying to be the bolder, better one had dissipated as he grew older. It really didn’t mean anything anymore when he had stopped letting it define him. 

Now all he wanted was just to be  _ with _ him. 

Boboiboy had returned his gesture, their lips meeting in the bridge of this reticent. 

But what Fang didn’t expect was a surge forward from the other at least three seconds after breaking away, almost crashing into his mouth as they met in frenzied yearning. Almost desperate. 

Craving, even. 

“I.. I’m sorry,” Boboiboy almost heaved, after what seemed like light years later. He felt his fingers push away his fringe slightly, and he opened his eyes for good measure. “I don’t know what came over me.” Boboiboy’s own brown eyes read apologetic, and as usual he obviously meant what he said. 

“You miss me this much when I’m gone?” He hummed, his hand on the back of Boboiboy’s head and fingers smoothing over the back of his soft hair. 

“As a matter of fact, yes.” 

He didn’t want to stop. There was nothing more Fang wanted than all of him, he had known this for years. Be somewhere only two of them could exist together. Where he could finally have him all to himself. 

But there was also an entire spread before them that Boboiboy had also spent time and energy on, and he wasn’t about to let all of that effort go to waste. 

He let himself push his face lightly away, averting his gaze from him. 

“For now,” Fang breathed, “We shall eat what you have tirelessly prepared.” 

“Aw.” He genuinely sounded disappointed, which for whatever reason was a little endearing. 

“Seriously, don’t be a dork. You’ve made too much just for the two of us.” He began digging in, setting aside the spoon from earlier and placing rice on his plate. He was excited to devour the carrot soup alongside the other dishes he had made. 

Boboiboy suddenly raised an eyebrow, and a smirk arched his lips. “Who said it was going to be just the two of us?” 

“Oh..?” He couldn’t help but express a little disappointment. Was this not a date of sorts? Had he read the invitation wrong? 

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Fang looked at him quizzically, to which he motioned for him to get the door. 

He opened it, and as luck would have it the universe seemed intent on giving him more surprises. 

It was none other than Yaya and Ying. They were joined together with the hijab-clad girl clutching Ying’s arm, like a perfect set. They were dressed to the nines, Yaya in a lovely but simple strawberry pink dress. Her sleeves were black, to compensate for the lack of sleeves the dress came with. She wore a matching pink hijab, though he would reckon it was at least 3 shades lighter than the dress. 

Ying on the other hand, had altered her appearance a lot more. She had cut her hair, which hovered comfortably a few inches below her ears. Her outfit consisted of a yellow blouse and loose baby blue pants, matching up with her round glasses. A little formal for the likes of her. He could only assume she had dressed up for the occasion. 

They were also looking deliriously pleased with themselves. 

“Oh  _ wow _ .” Was all he could manage, to which Ying replied with a hug on behalf of the pair. 

“Nice to see you too,” she greeted, the hints of her childish mischief still lingering in her voice.

As soon as they parted he immediately acknowledged Yaya, who smiled brightly as she said her hellos to both Boboiboy and him. He couldn’t help but notice she was carrying a small purse clasped by her stomach. It looked expensive, with a logo he couldn’t recognise and the way her hand clutched onto it securely, a ring over her finger….

Wait. 

A ring over her finger.

“Yaya, you’re...?” He started. He couldn’t help himself. Was she really…. 

She immediately smirked, which cued Ying to go back to her side, deliberately placing a hand over her shoulder. 

Which also had a ring. 

“We were going to let you know through dinner, but unfortunately for us you are highly perceptive.” Yaya tutted, as she placed a hand over her fiancé’s. She squeezed it affectionately, to which Ying placed a small peck on her cheek. 

“Expected no less from a captain.” Ying also tutted, and the two giggled as though they were teenagers, reverting themselves to a simpler time at will. 

Fang turned to Boboiboy, who seemed more or less pleased with the way he was pinned to the ground in absolute shock. 

“Oh, my god. Congratulations.” He finally mustered. He was happy for them, he truly was, but as per usual the words were failing him sorely. 

Ying let out a louder laugh this time, not holding back with her amusement. “Close your mouth before something flies in it,  _ abang. _ ” 

Boboiboy stood up, ushering them in to take their seats. “That just leaves one more.” 

“Why is he late?” Yaya inquired, as she sat herself down. “Or is he not coming?” 

“Oh, he is.” Boboiboy quipped, rather confidently. 

“What makes you so sure?” Ying asked, though the tone in her voice made it seem like she already knew the answer.

Boboiboy closed his eyes, and suddenly held up a hand. Three fingers, to be exact. 

Three, 

Two, 

one. 

There was another rapping on the door, to which Fang answered again. 

A familiar boy - now a young man, dressed in a simple green t-shirt that read **YOUR OPINION WASN’T IN THE RECIPE** in block letters, paired with faded gray jeans. His head rained with stubble, suggesting that he’d shaved it off only recently. With the same sly smirk he always had. Almost dramatically he took a deep breath in as soon as the door was open, and exhaled. 

“Alright,” he announced, occupying the space. “The fish curry is my property starting this second.” 

Fang heard Boboiboy laugh a hearty laugh, and he let himself join in with that as well. 

“Good to see you too, Gopal.” Fang beamed, also greeting him with a hug. Gopal’s larger body engulfed him, and he almost sank it to it without meaning to. 

“Surprise!” He exclaimed as the five were finally gathered around the table, a complete set. Yaya could only shake her head mildly at his enthusiasm. 

“What do you mean, surprise?” Fang felt like he was missing out on something. Everyone else seemed more or less in the know about the atmosphere but him. 

“Gopal… you don’t have to define the surprise now,” Ying scoffed, as she helped herself to a plate of rice. She took extra shares and placed it on Yaya’s plate as well, who smiled gratefully at the gesture. 

Fang could only raise an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Boboiboy let us in when you first showed up here. So he invited us over tonight as a surprise, so we could catch you.” Yaya beamed. 

“Me?” Fang asked. “But what about work?” 

Ying let out a  _ pft.  _ “You  _ know  _ our leave days are so much more flexible than yours. We can spare the time.” 

“Being captain has really kept you busy,” Gopal interjected. He smiled, though this seemed like a more genuine one this time. “So we hoped we could get together with you before you left.” 

“Besides,” Boboiboy said, as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Like older times, when that was their silent mode of asking for trust. “We just wanted to congratulate TAPOP’s youngest captain in person. You deserve to be celebrated for that at the very least.” 

He didn’t answer. Everyone he learned to love and care for, in the same room. For some reason the very fact that they were doing things for him, showing him that they cared was overwhelming.

It really had been so long since they were able to be in each other’s presence like this. Despite the majority of them still working in space they never got to take vacations together anymore as time went by, often visiting Earth at different times of the year. 

“Thank you, everyone,” He managed, his voice getting caught somewhere in his throat and coming out slightly scratchy. But he wasn’t going to start crying on them now. “I really didn’t expect this at all.” 

Gopal let out a scoff. “That’d defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, wouldn’t it?” 

Boboiboy on the other hand, just smiled. “Buddy, if you keep this up the food is going to get cold. Let’s all dig in now.” He handed him a plate, to which Gopal heartily accepted. 

“Next time you should have asked me to help you with the food,” He quipped, as he allowed himself a large serving of the fish curry. He took a whiff of the dish in earnest, like he was prepared to be intoxicated by it. “I’ve learnt quite a lot working with different planets and their kitchens.” 

“I’m sure you can tell us all about it, if you would like.” 

Gopal grinned. “I’d like that very much. But first thing’s first - fish curry.” 

  
  
  
  
  


***************

  
  
  


It was one of the longer nights of Fang’s life, as far as he could remember. 

They had spent the evening really catching up as they devoured Boboiboy’s food. Boboiboy was finally able to talk about his retirement experiences to all of them in person, and how he’d enrolled in a teacher’s training college. Gopal didn’t hold himself back with the extensive knowledge he had gained working in the space culinary sector, from the high points to the lower ones. Apparently the shirt he was wearing was a token of thanks from a customer, which struck everyone as very odd. 

Yaya and Ying retold their engagement story, largely for Fang. 

(They had both apparently made a bet somewhere along the years they’d been dating and ended up proposing at nearly the same time. They had done away with the competitiveness at the last minute because Yaya had started sobbing the moment Ying got her ring out.) 

He had to admit he was rather sad that he was the last to find out about their big news. Being captain took a lot of sacrifice, and that meant not having enough time for any personal communication with his friends. He was always being deployed, entrusted with more high-stakes missions because of his capabilities and experience. 

So now that he was on Earth, looking up into the universe on the top of Boboiboy’s roof - he could pretend those responsibilities didn’t exist for now. 

It was Boboiboy who suggested they go for amateur stargazing once everyone else had taken their leave. 

And as per usual he couldn’t say no to him. 

“You see any good constellations?” Boboiboy asked, with his head on his shoulder. His face was fully concentrated in the night sky above, his eyes scanning for any viable things that would resemble a pattern. 

“Cadet, you know I’m not that big of an expert in the specifics of astronomy.” 

“Didn’t you basically grow up in astronomy?”

“I grew up in  _ space _ , idiot. I didn’t study it.” 

“That’s too bad then.” He felt him nestle a little more onto his body, getting more comfortable.

“I thought you’d know more about the stars though.” 

“Please. The last time I honestly touched a book on it was when I was a kid. Then TAPOPS happened, yada yada yada.” 

“Right… like that isn’t just a long-winded way of saying you forgot it all. Dumbass.” 

“Shut  _ up _ .” Boboiboy elbowed him lightly, which made him chuckle. 

The night sky was clear, and even if he couldn’t identify constellations the stars weren’t afraid to show up, blinking brightly from above. Fang could see the little distinctions between a star and satellite, from the rhythmic blinking and occasional little take-offs amongst the stagnant dots. 

“Can I be honest with you?” Boboiboy suddenly asked, gripping his fingers around his. 

“Of course.” 

“I really miss you when you’re not around.” 

It was a simple statement, but enough for him to feel like his chest would soar out of his body. “I miss you, too.” 

“How’s it like up there, being captain?” 

_ Ah.  _ He had expected this question to arrive sooner or later.

“Busy.” Fang chuckled. 

“That checks out.” 

“But it’s cool,” He continued. Boboiboy lifted his head off his shoulder, making the decision to look at him properly. 

Fang allowed his arms to hold the weight of his torso, placing them behind him. “I guess it feels like I’ve finally made it. I’ve caught up.” 

“What do you mean, caught up?” 

“I suppose… I’ve finally reached where younger Fang would have wanted me to be. On top, where people could see me.” 

“So what does the current Fang feel about where he is now?” 

Fang let himself look at Boboiboy, placing a hand on his chin and allowing a soft brush over it with his fingers. “I think it’s safe to say…” He trailed off for effect, eliciting a look of slight confusion from the other. 

“He’s happy he’s here right now.” 

Boboiboy chuckled, though he leaned into his space for good measure. Fang found a ghost of a kiss placed onto his temple, a soft brush against his skin. “I wonder why.” 

He liked that sometimes he never needed to answer. Fang knew he’d always been the one to be able to read him like a book, how he just knew what to do or what to say.

He allowed his head onto Boboiboy’s lap this time, which also allowed a horizontal lens of the stars above. The retired young man seemed to be getting lost in the view with him, his brown eyes starting to go glassy at the sight. 

“Thinking about space?” He started, wondering if dredging up the past would be a good idea. 

“Mmm.. I guess. When you’ve spent more time up there than down here, everything still feels kind of hazy.” Boboiboy exhaled, and his torso followed suit as his posture dropped out of alignment. 

“Would you ever want to go back?” 

The question hung itself in the air between them, the simplicity of it turning itself inside out. Fang wanted to feel like he would regret asking that question - but the truth was, he did want to know. Regardless of what the answer was going to be. 

Boboiboy sighed, though it didn’t sound like an exasperated one. “I don’t know, honestly.” He took a moment and chortled. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I chose to leave that life behind, but sometimes wish I didn’t. Maybe I miss playing superhero. It could be any of those things.”

“Don’t blame you.” 

“But you know,” Boboiboy suddenly started, a goofy grin on his face. “You could have just said it’s lonely out there without me.” 

Fang took off his glasses, and sighed. “You’re one to talk, with how sappy you are and missing me when I’m gone.” 

They both laughed at the shared sentiment, and the cheesiness of it all. Fang had to admit it was rather nice being in love. How rewarding it was to be in love with his best friend of all people, who just  _ got  _ him.

And had accepted all of him, even if on both ends was a learning journey to achieving that. 

They weren’t kids anymore. And that seemed to be the better part of it. 

“Whatever it is…” He started, to which Boboiboy looked down, with another questioning look on his face. 

“We’d all be pretty happy if you ever decide to come back. For whatever reason. And on your terms, of course.” 

Boboiboy simply closed his eyes for a second, and smiled. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“You’d be like another Tarung. Laskmana Boboiboy. How about that?” 

“That’s an insanely terrible joke. And I’m not even old, captain.” 

Fang smirked. “Sure you aren’t.” 

“If I’m old, that makes you old too.” 

“You’re talking to TAPOP’s youngest captain, so that’s already a false claim.” 

Boboiboy gave a light tap onto his forehead, imitating a slap. “Whatever.” 

“But - you know, Fang.” His tone suddenly became a little more serious, to which Fang reacted by sitting up. 

“If you’re asking me because you’re worried about me… About us?” 

“Well.. yeah.” 

Boboiboy placed his palm on his jaw, and allowed his fingers to gently stroke his cheeks. “You don’t have to, you know.” 

“How can I be so sure?” 

“Because no matter how long you’re gone, I’m always going to be here. There’s always going to be a home for you here on Earth. This house, with me. You belong here at any time. You’re not going to be alone anymore, ever. Okay?” 

Fang wondered what his fourteen year old self would have done, if he’d been told that he did in fact have a home. That someone wanted him around, and appreciated him for his presence.

He placed his forehead against Boboiboy’s, feeling his fringe against his own. 

This time he placed his own lips against the bridge of Boboiboy’s nose, where his own set of constellations resided. He had memorised every pattern, every little star that made the freckles of his face. 

Which had always felt like a galaxy of his own that he would always love. 

_ Love.  _

That was what it was. 

“Alright.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i initially wrote this to overcome writer's block (hence the longevity of this lmao), and ended up realising i love domestic boifang too much for me to just leave it at that. thanks for reading xxxx


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